At the Airport

Love the train!   Yup, the direct line to Ben Gurion sure makes life easier.  Gill drops me off at 7:00 at the station in Akko, and I was at the airport about 9:10.  I sale through, though the security guy gives me a hard time about my passport picture.  He insists on looking at my driver’s license.  “Nu?” I ask, “which hair style do you like better?”  This time, I remember to bring my electronic card that lets me go through the automatic passport control.  And with no checked luggage, there is one less thing to worry about.  Naturally, that may change when I transfer flights in Newark, as even the same airline can apply rules in a very arbitrary fashion. 

I wander through the duty free shop to kill time, sniffing perfumes.  “Looking for anything?” asks the saleswoman.  I mumble something about the new restrictions for all liquids.  “Which airline?” she asks.  When I tell her Continental, she rolls her eyes and tells me to forget about it.  So what about the large fruit juice I drank?  That was well over the 100 ml limit.  Will I still be allowed to board the plane?

Favorite airport scene so far: the guy sitting in the departure lounge a few seats over from me is an elderly gentleman.  He’s got his laptop on his lap.  This looks like a guy who would have trouble grasping anything more technologically challenging than an escalator, but here he is, surfing happily on his little ultra-thin. 

Life is good.

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